Trez (and Others) One-Shots! (Requests Open)
by SassyRaptor
Summary: Requests open for Trez one-shots! Rated K-T. You may request fics/pairings of characters outside of the main four, as well. More details on the first page!
1. Requests!

Request Trez one-shots! Limited to T-rated fics. I don't write anything beyond that, my apologies. (I may put in a small bit of Auslly in these upon request, but don't expect much)

Also, feel free to request character/pairing fics outside of the main four. I'll do any pairing (or triple, or whatever) outside the main four (no OCs/self-inserts though, sorry).

Also, _THEY DON'T HAVE TO BE ROMANCE/ROMANTIC FICS. _You can decide on whatever level of romance (or lack thereof) you want.

* * *

Please give me the following details in your request:

-Characters involved  
-Plotline (prefer it not _too_ simple, but you can go into as much detail as you like)  
-Genre(s)  
-Rating (K, K+, or T)  
-Restrictions (things you don't want in the one-shot)  
-Any other details you wish to include.

* * *

_Please do not request me to write anything problematic, as I will not accept it._ (PM me if you're curious as to what that includes)

**_PLEASE SEND IN REQUESTS THROUGH PRIVATE MESSAGES, THANK YOU._**

You _may_ request more than one - however, _do_ keep in mind that I may not get to it right away, but I will do my best to get to it.

As for my "Rise" readers - no worries! I haven't quit the fic, I'm just taking my sweet time (also, y'know, college classes and work get in the way...). Hopefully I can update that soon.

PM if you have any further questions!

Gonna start off with my own choice of one-shot:

* * *

"Dez, your shirt's inside out," the dark-haired girl comments, wondering why she should even bother. The boy's attire always was out of the ordinary. Though she had to admit, he always _did_ seem to keep things interesting. And she's been bored out of her mind lounging on the zebra-print sofa of the A&amp;A Music Factory, waiting to teach her managerial class, and had pretty much gone through every single magazine they had there.

"What? Oh, no, I wore it like this on purpose." Big surprise. The girl shakes her head.

"Dez, inside-out? _Really?_ What kind of fashion statement is that? It just looks silly."

"Oh, I'm not trying to make a statement. I just didn't have any clean shirts to wear, so I thought I'd try this!"

"Ew!"

"_C'mon,_ Trish, it's called _efficiency._"

"It's called _gross,_" she huffs, setting aside her magazine. How this kid manages to _live_ fighting so many different social norms will always be a wonder to her. Not that she didn't fight a few, herself. She figures the world needs to be balanced out somehow, however. Perhaps _everybody_ needed at least _one_ 'Dez' in their lives.

"So...Trish...Were you able to book me for that commercial?" he inquires, his tone losing it's cheerful flair and taking on a more serious emphasis.

"_What commercial?_" she teases.

"_Trish!_" he cries, falling for it, as usual. She shakes her head again, but with more of an amused look on her face. Oh, how much she loves messing with him.

"Oh, quit your whining. _Of course_ I got you the gig. Filming starts next week at the downtown plaza, eight AM sharp." His pouty countenance is quick to change into a look of excitement, and before Trish could say anything further, the ginger leans down and engulfs her in his long arms.

"_Thank you, thank you, thank you!_" he exclaims, squeezing her a little too tightly for her comfort.

"Yeah, yeah, you're welcome. _Now get offa me, you doof!_" she demands, trying to squirm her way out of his grasp. He pulls away after a few more seconds, her threatening tone pulling him out of the short daze he had fallen into as he inhaled the sweet aroma of her tresses.

"What kind of shampoo do you use?" he inquires abruptly, after letting her go.

"_What?_" her brows knit together in confusion. He smiles.

"Your hair smalls_ a-mazing!_" he enthuses, reaching his hand forward and raking a few fingers through her curls. As much as she wanted it to bother her, the action was quite relaxing. She flips her hair over her shoulder after he pulls his hand back.

"Thanks._ I try._" They share a laugh. "And I think it's called_ 'Flower Fusion'_ or something. _Oh!_ But don't get the two-in-one, it sucks."

"Got it." He nods. "Oh, by the way, are you free later today?"

"Well, I gotta teach a class soon, but I should be free around seven. Why?"

"Perfect. I'll meet you here."

"What for, Freckles?"

"Dinner and a movie, maybe?" His phone starts beeping. He pulls it out and checks it, his eyes widening. "Oh, sorry, gotta go - need to meet up with Austin. We're entering a sandcastle-building contest!" He pockets his phone and starts towards the main door.

"But-" she starts, a little too late, as she had been processing his words.

"-See ya, Trish!" he calls out to her as he leaves.

_Did that doof just ask me out?_, she wonders. She checks the time on her phone. Almost time for her class. She'll have to work this all out later.

"Trish!" She looks up and sees said doof, yet again. He walks over to her and states, "I forgot something."

Before she could ask, or even utter another word, he leans down and gives her a peck on the cheek. "Thanks again for the gig. You're the best!" And with that, the quirky boy with the inside-out shirt leaves her sight.

_That doof **did** just ask me_ out, she settles - surprisingly not as disgusted by the idea as she figured she would be.


	2. Together

**One-shot requested by austlly394. :D Trez, married with kids? Wuh-oh!**

* * *

She peers over the railing of the bridge and stares down at the dark waters beneath her. She grips the railing tightly with both hands, unsure of what she's doing out here. Her memories of the day blur. She cannot remember whether or not she had the chance to eat. All she can recall are the cries. The endless cries, the screams…They never stopped. She grips tighter.

"_Trish!_" a familiar voice calls out. She turns her head to the right.

There he stood, looking as disheveled as she, pushing the three-seater stroller with one hand, and holding their eldest's hand in the other. He rushes towards her, pale-faced and shaken. She watches him with her reddened eyes, standing still as he approaches. He parks the stroller nearby and bends down to whisper something to their eldest. Esmeralda nods, moving to stand beside the stroller to watch over her new siblings. Dez marches over to his wife, his emotions ablaze in all directions.

"I _knew_ I shouldn't have left you alone!" he cries out, engulfing her in his arms. He pulls back, holding her by the shoulders as he examines her face. Exhausted, drained of color – _weak._ "_What are you doing out here, Trish?_" he asks, his shaky hands gripping her tighter.

"I…I don't really know, Dez. I just…I needed some air," she responds, pushing him off of her. "I _still_ do."

"_You left the kids alone! _I came home and the babies were all crying, and Essie was there trying to calm them down by herself." Trish had been all over the place since she came home from the hospital. Her mood had been sour, and she would snap at him over the most trivial things. She would always look as if she was on the verge of tears, but, being the way she is, forces herself to hold it all in. She wouldn't eat, and her sleep patterns had been erratic. Dez had certainly been concerned, but he never figured it would go this far.

"_Are you saying I'm a bad mother?!_" she snaps at him. He jumps back, wide-eyed, glancing at the kids behind him. Esmeralda always seems so put-together, especially for a four-year-old, and this time is no different. She looks at her mother softly with her brown eyes, showing what could best be described as sympathy.

"N-n-no, babe, _of course_ not, I just…I want you to come home with me, with _us…_" Dez walks towards his wife again, holding his hands out for her to take.

"Stay away from me. _You_ did this to me," she spits, her voice like venom. She moves backwards as he approaches her.

"Babe…Baby, _what are you talking about?_" He drops his hands and quickens his pace and she turns around, getting ready to make a run for it. Just as she begins, she feels his arms wrap around her and pull her back. She struggles in his grasp.

"_Let me go, you doof!_" she screams. "I can't do this, I-I can't…I don't know what's wrong with me, Dez..." She breaks, the tears no longer restrained. She turns herself around in his arms and sobs into his chest, her hands grasping his shirt. He runs his fingers through her tresses, kissing the top of her head.

"You just had _triplets._ This happens to a lotta people after having a baby. And you had three in one go." He rests his chin on her head. "I read about this…It's called postpartum depression. Don't worry, we can get help. There are specialists for this sorta thing. And I'm here for you, you _know_ that. You're not gonna go through _anything_ alone."

"Dez, y-you know me better than most people. You _know_ I'm not cut out to be a m-mother," she says, resting her forehead against his chest as the tears continue to silently fall.

"Trish, that's just the P-D talking. That's not true – just look at Esmeralda." He gestures back at the young girl watching over the stroller. "She's only four and she's already shown that she can be responsible. And that can't _possibly_ be because of me. That was _all you._" Trish looks up to face her husband. He winces. She is the strongest person he knows. Seeing her like this shook him to the core.

"I can't handle three babies _and_ her, Dez. I can't. It's only been two weeks, and I'm already losing it."

"That's not your fault, it's _mine._" He caresses her cheek lightly, wiping some of her tears away. "I promised you we'd be in this together. And so far, I haven't been doing my part."

"You were busy with those movie shoots–"

"–_That's not an excuse, Trish_. You have work, too, but you're managing it all from home _and_ taking care of the kids. Heck, I can even take the kids to set with me if you need me to. In fact, I _will._ And we can hire a nanny or something to come in a couple days a week to help us out. You shouldn't have to feel like this is all on you – 'cause it's _not._"

"Daddy?" the four-year-old girl asks, pushing the stroller towards her parents.

"Gah!" Dez jumps, turning to her. "Esmeralda, you scared me. Don't sneak up on me like that!" Essie giggles at her father.

"Daddy, mommy, it's cold and I'm tired. I wanna go home. And Mitchell smells yucky, he needs a change." The little girl pinches her nose. Trish smiles down at her eldest daughter, walks over to her, and scoops her up in her arms. Essie rests her head on her mother's shoulder.

"I just changed Mitch! Are you sure it's not Azalea or Ignacio?" Dez asks her.

"I don't know who's who." Esmeralda mumbles. "It's the one with the orangey hair."

"That's Ignacio." Dez walks over to the stroller and lifts one of his sons up to his nose to check him. "Woo! Yup. Definitely Nacho." He sets him back in the stroller, and Azalea begins to cry. Dez sighs.

"Shh, shh, it's okay, Zay-Zay." He scoops her up and bounces her lightly in his arms. He looks up at his wife. "What do ya say, Trish? _You_ might not be able to do this, and _I_ can't either. But _we_ can. _Together._" He pleads her with his eyes. She watches her husband with an amused look upon her face as her youngest spits up on his shirt.

"Babe," she says as she gestures towards the mess with her eyes. He looks down and pouts.

"_Man!_ This is my favorite shirt." He sets the, now cooing, baby girl back down in the stroller.

"You really need me around, don't you?" Trisk asks, walking towards him. Essie had already fallen asleep on her shoulder. Dez cleans his shirt off with a baby wipe.

"Yes. And not just because of the kids. I _love_ you." He leans down and kisses his wife tenderly on the lips. As they pull apart, Trish's faces scrunches up.

"Dez – _have you been drinking the baby formula?_" she questions him, accusingly.

"Uh…Define _baby formula._" Dez bites his lip. Trish rolls her eyes and backhands him lightly on the chest.

"Let's go home, you doof."

* * *

**I had a somewhat difficult time coming up with ideas for this one-shot. I figured this would work. I like the idea of them having triplets, ahaha, but that can't possibly be easy on Trish. **_**Yeesh.**_

**I hope you enjoyed it! More one-shots to come!**


	3. A Shoulder

**This request goes like this:**

"_**Can you do a fanfic where Dez and Carrie get back together, but suddenly Carrie breaks up with him again? Of course Dez is devastated but Trish tries her best to console him in the way that she can. Just make it sweet and cute (auslly isnt there with Dez they can be out on a date or something) thank you :)"**_

**Hope you like it! I kind of incorporated Austin and Ally a bit, but had it so they couldn't stay. Hope that's okay!**

**Special thanks to ****BossVicCossWynch for her help! c:**

* * *

"Dezzy…_Dez._ I know that we just got back together recently, but…" Carrie starts, her eyes falling down to the table in front of her. The normally bouncy blonde seems off, and not in her usual chipper way either.

"What's wrong, babe?" her redheaded boyfriend inquires, leaning over the table and taking her hands in his. He tries to establish eye contact with her, but she isn't having it. She sighs, and though it is painful for her to do so, she manages to look him in the eyes.

"It's just not the same anymore, Dez. _We're done._ And I don't just mean with this dinner." She pulls her hands away from his and gets up from the table. Dez stares off in the same direction, his mind taking its sweet time to process what had just happened. Carrie grabs her clutch and lays a few twenties down on the table. "Dinner's on me," she insists. He looks up at her.

"Y-you mean…_You don't want to be with me?_" His bottom lip quivers as his eyes start to glaze over. "B-but…We…You…" He holds her gaze for short while, but as soon as the heaviness from his hurt comes crashing down on him, he buries his face in his hands. She pats his back gently, trying to comfort him.

"Dez, _don't cry._ It's just…I don't think this is working. And it's not just because of the long-distance. I _know_ it's not just me. I _know_ you feel it, too. I'm so sorry. I really hope we can stay friends or something."

"_Or something._" He pulls his hands away from his face and turns to look at her. She frowns, turning away, unable to face him any longer, then walks away. His hands find their way back to his face.

* * *

"I don't understand," Dez manages to utter through his heavy, unceasing sobs. "We just got back together." The blond minds the redheaded boy with sympathy in his eyes. He gives the boy's shoulder a gentle squeeze, trying to put him at ease, and lets out a heavy exhale.

It had been a long day for Austin – between prepping for the dance class he had to teach later and helping Ally out with keeping Ridley calm, barely a trickle of energy remains in him – and he _still_ has yet to teach his class. But he _ha_s to be there for his best friend, too. That's what best friends do, right?

"Dez…It'll be okay. If Carrie doesn't want you, _forget_ about her. It's _her_ loss. There's absolutely no one like you out there, and some lucky girl will see that someday and you'll get your happily ever after. I _guarantee it,_ buddy." Austin shifts forward and wraps his arms around the blubbering boy, who proceeded to sob in his shoulder.

"Austin!" a voice calls out from atop the staircase.

"Yes, _my little Goose-Pickle?_" he asks his girlfriend, teasingly, gently pulling away from Dez and turning around on the couch to look up at her. The girl rolls her eyes and heads down the stairs.

"Your class is about to start. You and Dez can cuddle later. You should probably get going, _Tiger-Pancake_," she retaliates. Austin frowns, turning to his sobbing friend. He can't just leave Dez alone in this state. As Ally draws closer, it finally registers that Dez had been crying. Not the loud, comical sobbing that she had gotten used to, but the quiet and deep kind, with him gasping every now and then for air. It pains her to watch and listen to him be this way – it just isn't _him._ The him whose tears were always short-lived. The him that could be cheered up with ease. The him that would usually have snide remark about her hair by this time of day.

"Hey, Ally, can you stick around while I go teach? I think Dez could use some company." Austin rubs his friend's back. Dez, now bent over in his seat, face buried in his hands, continues weeping relentlessly.

"I…I wish I could, Austin…But I already promised Ridley I'd be there for her at the performance she's giving for her friend's birthday party. It starts soon, I need to get going now, actually." Ally frowns. "I'm sorry, Dez…Don't take this too hard, okay? If not Carrie, _you'll find someone else._"

"Let's face it, I'm a l-lost cause," he responds between sobs, his voice muffled by his hands. "Just like your h-hair." Ally sighs, unsure of how to respond to that.

"_I_ coulda told you that," another voice rings through the music factory. Austin and Ally turn to face the entrance.

"_Trish!_" Ally pleads her, her hand making a cutting gesture in the air, telling the girl to stop.

"Trish, _not now_," Austin turns around and sends a warning to her, through his teeth. She peers over at Dez, the boy not bothering to respond to her quip, nor lift his face out of his hands.

"Oh," she states, the situation finally sinking in. This is clearly no time for witty comebacks and colorful insults. She pulls Austin off the couch by his collar, getting him to stand up. She points towards the dance studio with her thumb. "Go. You have a class to teach." He nods, and rushes over, not wanting to create any further conflict with the girl. Trish then turns to her bestie, "And don't you have to go meet up with Ridley?"

"_Right…_You think you can handle Dez while we're gone?" Ally grits her teeth, worried about the idea of leaving Dez behind with Trish while he's in such a fragile state. Trish scoffs.

"_Please._ Handle Dez? I've been doing that for years! Now, run along. I got this." She shoos her friend out the double-doors. Upon doing so, she retreats back to the sofa, promptly seating herself beside the blubbering boy. Dez finally manages to pull his face away from his hands and looks at her – tired eyes reddened and glazed over.

"Wh–" he starts, only to be cut off by her finger over his lips.

"No, no. Don't speak. Just listen," she directs him. He nods quietly, patiently waiting for her to continue. She purses her lips, the sight of those silent tears trickling down his face making this conversation all the harder for her. "You're such a doof." She shakes her head.

"Is that supposed to m-make me feel better 'cause–" She holds a hand up in front of her to silence him again.

"I wasn't finished." She drops her hand, letting it rest on her lap. She holds her gaze sternly against his, and the boy begins to fear his mortality. _What did I do now?_, he wonders. He rarely ever had been able to figure out why she would be annoyed with him. It never did make sense to him. She leans a bit closer, resting her hand gently on his thigh. He tenses up, his fears only doubling.

"Dez. _You're only eighteen._ And don't tell anybody I said this, but you're _kind of a_ catch," she admits. Dez's brows push together. He stares at her, bewildered, as if he can't recognize the girl sitting next to him. Trish rolls her eyes at his reaction and takes a deep breath before continuing. "And no, I'm not going to tell you that you shouldn't cry. _I get it._ Getting dumped sucks. But what sucks _more_ is you thinking so little of yourself, believing you're a _'lost cause'_ or whatever. _No one_ should make you feel that way."

"Says the g-girl who can't go a day without insulting me somehow." He smiles weakly at her.

"You see that, though?" She points at his face. "You're smiling. Look, I _know_ my limits. If I knew it would really hurt you, I wouldn't say it," she explains herself. "But that's beside the point. Look, I'm not all that good at comforting and giving advice, but I'll tell you what: my schedule's free today – how about we hang out? Just the two of us? Get your mind off things."

"I'd like that." He nods, his smile growing. "And you're not that bad at comforting. Though _next time_, I'd like ice cream, too."

"Don't push it, bub." She tightens her lips and squeezes his thigh, digging her freshly manicured nails into it slightly.

"Ow, ow, ow!" He pulls his thigh away and glares at her. He drops the glare after a few seconds, and looked as if he had reached some sort of epiphany. "We should go get ice cream! Oh, and _you're_ buying." Her turn to glare.

"_Fine_," she replies, exasperated. "But you're _really_ not making this easy on me, doofus. You–" Before she can continue, she finds herself being pulled into the boy's arms. She sighs, returning the hug quickly before pushing him off of her. "Let's just _go_ already!"

* * *

"_Exactly!_ Like they did so much with so little in the first and third movies, but in this one, even with all the cool CG and stuff, it just didn't look seamless." Dez takes a bite out of his ice cream cone.

"Yeah, you'd think it'd look better, right?" Trish agrees, taking a spoonful of her own frozen treat. "And Dez, stop biting your ice cream, you're gonna give yourself a brain freeze."

"_Relax,_ Trish, I know what I'm do–eeeeeeeeeeeeaaaahhhhhhhh!" he screams, grasping his head with one hand. Trish giggles, setting her cup on a table and taking his cone from him.

"Alright, sit down. Enough ice cream for you." She tosses his cone into a nearby waste bin.

"_Hey!_" Dez whines, eyes wincing as his headache ensues. "I wasn't done with that!" Trish takes a seat at the table.

"Sit down, Dez," she orders, more sternly. He complies without any further argument.

"See, this is why I'm always going to need you around. You look out for me." He leans his elbow on the table, resting his head in his hand.

"Sorry, _what?_" she smirks, unsure of whether or not to be flattered or uncomfortable. Dez lets his hand fall onto the table.

"You look out for me. Y'know, keep me grounded. Make sure I don't just flutter away," he explains, gesturing a flutter with his hands. That never ceases to make her smile, even if that smile is accompanied with an eye roll. "Your friendship…_You_ mean a lot to me, Trish," he continues slowly, his own words perplexing him. He scrunches his brows together and looks down at the table in front of him, sorting out his thoughts.

"So what you're saying is _I'm a good friend?_" she asks for clarification, a tad unsettled by the direction this conversation seemed to take.

"I'm saying you're my _best_ friend." He looks up to face her.

"_Austin's_ your best friend."

"I know." He nods. "But…You are, too. And since he and Ally have been together a lot lately, I've had less and less time with him, and, well, more and more with _you._ Not that I'm complaining." He shrugs.

"I don't know, Dez. I mean, you're a good friend, sure, but I don't think we're _that_ close." She takes another spoonful of ice cream.

"Hey, we watch marathons together, go to the movies together, film together, go to conventions together, drink each other's beverages, eat each other's food…" he starts listing off as he pulls her ice cream over to his side of the table and takes a spoonful for himself. She promptly snatches it back, causing him to pout.

"I think you mean _you_ drink _my_ beverages and eat _my_ food," she retorts. "But, yeah, the other stuff _is_ sort've best friend stuff, _I guess._"

"And at least I have you there to partake in the eye-rolling and fake-gagging with me when Austin and Ally are being too obnoxiously adorable." Trish nods, and they share a laugh. "Y'know it's actually not so bad being single if I get to hang out with _you…_It helps me forget."

"Right." Trish's smile drops, her stomach feeling the strangest of sensations. This conversation has her feeling uneasy. She tosses her empty ice cream cup into the trash, rises from her seat, and starts heading on over to the Music Factory, not too far away. Dez, confused by her abruptness, gets up from his seat and follows her. She pushes through the double-doors of the store and makes a bee line for the couch.

"Trish, _wait!_" Dez catches up to her and grabs her hand, getting her to stop in her tracks. She pulls it away. "What's wrong? _Was it something I said?_" he inquires innocently, studying her expression upon her turning to face him.

"It was _everything_ you said, Dez." She closes her eyes and massages her temples with her fingers as she processes her thoughts. He tilts his head, watching her, awaiting further response.

"All I said was that we're best friends. _Aren't we?_" Trish can see his eyes starting to glaze over as he asks this. She cannot possibly break him down again after she spent so long building him back up.

"_Yes,_ Dez. We are. I think you made that pretty clear," she agrees. Dez starts to feel at ease, a heaviness lifting off of him. He blinks away the wetness of his eyes. "_But…_" At this one word, he feels a chill in his throat, and the heaviness returning to his chest.

"_The way you made it sound…_" she exhales sharply in a light laugh.

"What, w-what is it?" he presses, his nervousness building up substantially. He debates with himself; wanting to hear what she has to say, yet at the same time dreading her answer. She shakes her head.

"Never mind. It's crazy. You can't possibly..." She looks around, as if worried others were watching. Though the room is empty, she feels her face heat up all the same.

"–What, Trish, _what?!_" He grabs her by the shoulders and shakes her, the anticipation now killing him. She swats his hands off of her.

"Calm down, whack-a-doodle!" she rebukes him, and he retracts his hands. "You just…_Ugh…_You made it sound like our relationship is beyond even _best_ friends. Like we're a couple or something." She shudders. He frowns.

"Would that be such a _bad_ thing?" he asks, drawing closer to her, once again.

"I…" she fixates her eyes on his, trying to decipher whether or not he's being serious. The answer she finds in his eyes confuses her. And yet, it feels exactly _right._ "No, I guess it wouldn't be bad. Weird, maybe, but…Not _bad._" He grins at her answer.

"So, um…I'm not really sure how this works – should I just ask you out and we can start from there? 'Cause, I-I've asked you out before, but those were like friend-dates, but I mean we'll probably just be doing the same stuff so–mmmph!" she cuts off his ramblings by stand on her tip-toes, tugging him down by the collar, and colliding his lips against hers.

He stands still, eyes widened – frozen in shock. He lifts his hands at his sides, unsure of what to do with them, where to place them, or whether or not he should do anything at all. Slowly, but surely, his body takes over for him; eyes closing and hands working their way into her curly locks. He pushes his lips against hers, deepening the kiss, causing her to moan from the pressure. Her hands work their way up to his face – holding him at his cheeks and running her thumbs lightly across his jawline.

As the kiss progresses, they fall back onto the couch – Dez trapped underneath the girl. _Not that he's complaining._ Now comfortable, now secure, he kisses her back without abandon. Her forehead, her cheeks, her neck, her shoulder, the tip of her nose, then working his way back to her reddened lips. She rakes her fingers through his hair, tugging ever so slightly to pull him closer. The heated exchange ends abruptly, however, as they hear the practice room door close.

Trish quickly moves off of him, sitting upright and adjusting her shirt, fixing up her hair. Dez does the same, however has trouble trying to calm his breathing.

"Dez? Trish?" the blond boy asks, descending the stairs. "Everything alright down here? I heard weird noises."

"Yeah. Everything's fine. Bozo here was just…Showing me all the bird calls he can mimic," Trish quickly rattles off a lie.

"Yeah, we weren't kissing or anything. Psh–_ow!_" Dez yelps upon getting elbowed in the side by the fiery girl. Austin raises a brow at them, placing his hands on his hips.

"Oh…Kay. Well, I gotta go take Ally out for dinner. You think you guys can close up tonight?" he asks the duo curiously, seemingly oblivious.

"Yeah, sure, totally," Trish responds quickly, ushering the blond boy out the door. "We've got this covered."

"Alright." He hands her the keys and starts walking away. Trish lets out a sigh of relief. "Oh!" Austin turns around to face her.

"_What is it?_"

"Make sure you two don't knock over any instruments while you both are, uh…'Mimicking bird calls'," he says, gesturing with finger quotes. He winks at her, pivots on his heel and heads off, leaving the girl dumbfounded. She closes the door and turns back to the redhead.

"_Way to go, genius._ Now he knows."

"What? No, _didn't you hear him?_ He bought the bird-calls story!" he smiles at her cheerfully. Tightening her lips and clenching her fists, it takes everything she's got in her not to argue. She lets out a heavy exhale and joins him back on the couch.

"You're right. You _do_ need me around." She laughs. Puzzled at first, he shrugs off her comment and simply returns her smile with his own. She rests her head on his shoulder.

Seeing her smile his way had knocked the 'Dez' right back into him.

* * *

**I hope this was okay with you all! I'll try to get to the others as soon as I can!**

**-AJ**


	4. Double Vision

**So…Several people requested a one-shot about the bit in "Burdens &amp; Boynado" where Trish and Dez both come into the Music Factory all roughed up.**

**Assuming **_**other**_** things went down, rather than what they said happened.**

**Enjoy!**

* * *

"Let me get that for you." The dark-haired girl pushed the boy's red locks out of his face, gently caressing the side of his cheek before pulling her hand back. "_There_ we go."

"Thank you, Patricia." He winks; his cocky smirk doing things to her. She shudders as he lifts her chin up with his index finger, only to pout as it moves away, going back to adjusting his camera.

"Trish, please. _Just_ Trish." It amazes her that she had let him call her that without any repercussion coming to him. But she lets it slide, for now. _He's cute, after all._ Two years ago, she would have never admitted this to anyone – not even _herself._ Two years and some puberty later…He's certainly matured; his vibrant locks lengthened elegantly, and then there's that cute goatee he had grown. Not to mention how well-mannered he is now. She cannot say the same for some _other_ boys she knows.

The other redhead watches the two flirting teens – seething. Heat creeps up Dez's face, his volcano of a top threatening to blow. _So what _if she likes_ that _guy? It's not like he should be bothered – _right? _The boy doesn't seem threatening in any way_. Where is this overwhelming feeling of protectiveness even coming from?_ And it's not like Trish cannot defend herself. _What is it about this other redhead that's bothering him so much? _He used to like this boy, too, after all. Perhaps it was the reminder that he used to be friends with Trent? That didn't bug him so much _before_, though…

"Dex, _stooop _it," she whimpers coyly after he had whispered something into her ear, snapping Dez out of his thoughts. She shoves Dex lightly, giggling as she pulls him back towards her. Dez's eyes widen and his jaw slacks, his face losing all its tension in a state of shock. Trish – _giggling?_ What happens next could not be helped. He marches over to them, fists clenched. He's never been one for starting anything violent – especially towards someone who's done absolutely nothing wrong. It takes everything he's got in him to control himself. His blood boils unrelentingly, regardless.

"Trish," he addresses the girl, donning a tight-lipped smile. "_Can I see you for a sec?_" The girl waves her hand in the air, shooing him away. Dex's brows pucker together, befuddled as to why the redhead that had approached them seemed so upset. _Had he done something?_

"Go away, Dez. _Can't you see Dexter and I are talking here?_" Trish responds, not even bothering to turn around and face her friend. This response doesn't help his situation at all. He grapples her upper arm and drags her away from the other boy. "Dez! _Let go! _What the heck?!" They had gotten several yards away when Dez finally loosens his grip, letting the girl free.

"We need to talk."

"Dez, I _already_ talked to the Boynado boys. They said no more autographs for you. You've got _plenty_ already." Exhausted by this conversation already, she groans, pushing some hair back out of her face. _What is it about this small action that prevents him from looking away?_ He shakes his head.

"It's not about that…Well, _yes,_ I still want more autographs, _but…_" He takes in a heavy breath, exhaling slowly. "Look, I just…I don't trust this Dex guy. He comes out of nowhere and volunteers to be Boynado's videographer? What's up with that?"

"Dez – he _applied_ for this job. He's getting _paid_ for this. We hired him because he's good at what he does."

"Why didn't you ask _me?_"

"Because you keep on trying to steal locks of Devin's hair, bottle Rupert's sweat, and take pictures of Nigel without him looking. You _know_ how much they hate that."

"But why did you have to get _him?_"

"I thought you liked Dex." Her brow raises. "What's going on, Dez? Are you…_Jealous?_"

"Wh – I. _No!_" he asserts, finding his fists clenching once again, even as he fights his body to relax.

"Dez, trust me. This has got _nothing_ to do with your videography."

"That…That's not it…" He bites his lower lip. "I...I don't trust him. He was friends with Trent, _remember?_"

"Yes, I do. But Dex didn't even know what went down between me and Trent until I told him. He was _more_ than apologetic. Besides, that didn't bother you before." She eyes him, questioning his every movement. The way he stands, the way his hands are moving. Something's off. Something's wrong. She cannot pinpoint exactly _what,_ however.

"I just–" he begins, before she cuts him off.

"–Do you have a problem with me _flirting_ with him?" She tenses as the thought dawns on her. Could it be that Dez was perturbed by the flirtations between her and the other boy?

"I…" he huffs. "Yes. It's…It's _weird._"

"Why?"

"Because…Because, _look_ at him! He's _exactly_ like me!" he shouts. Dex looks over at the two of them from his spot, scratching his head in confusion. He shrugs it off, then continues fiddling with his camera.

"What? _No way!_" she retaliates, the very idea of her flirting with anyone even _remotely_ like Dez being very off-putting to her.

"You even said so yourself two years ago!" he continues accusing. "You said that there were two of me, and that it was your _worst nightmare._"

"Well, he's changed – a lot. _You_ haven't." She maintains her cool as the boy escalates.

"You only say that because you see me _every day_, and you haven't seen _him_ in _years._" His posture droops, his eyes no longer meeting hers. "I mean, he's a videographer, he wears bold clothes, he likes Zaliens movies, he provides comic relief with his oddball observations, he's got red hair, his name is _Dex…_"

"Dez – _what exactly are you afraid of?_" she takes him by the upper arms, forcing him to face her. "Why is this bugging you? Tell me the truth." He folds in his lips; worry lines crease into his forehead. He can't lie to her.

"I…I'm…Worried that you're going to replace me." His eyes, shining as they had lightly glazed over, meet hers. Trish releases him from her grip, taking a step back.

"_What?_"

"You've found another Dez. A _better_ Dez. You don't need me anymore." He slips his hands into his pockets and stares at the floor, kicking it lightly. Trish frowns. _What is she even supposed to say to that?_ He _had_ to know that would _never_ be the case. They were friends – _best_ friends even. Replace him? Where would he get such an idea?

"Dez, there's only _one_ you. _No one_ can replace you." She holds her hands out to him. He looks up at her and takes them, and she gives his hands a slight squeeze of reassurance, eliminating the pout on his face. Relief. He exhales the stress out of his body.

"But there's still something I don't get…" he starts, looking down at their hands.

"What's that?"

"What's he got that I don't? He seems a lot like me – but you like him, so that _can't_ be right. _What is it?_" He looks her in the eyes once again, taking a small step towards her. She releases his hands, her body reacting strangely to his proximately. She wonders about her shaking – about the palpitation of her heart. The question had caught her off-guard, and no matter how much she wracks her brain searching for it, she cannot come up with a single answer.

"I…I don't know. It's more…Something _you_ have that he _doesn't._"

"And what, pray tell, is that?"

"…My friendship." Her voice has solidified, but her body continues to shake. She had just stated the first thing she could think of – she couldn't find a proper excuse. The boys are practically the same person. _Almost._ But Dez isn't Dex.

No. He's _better._

"I don't–" he begins, only to be stopped by her hands being held out in front of her.

"_Enough._ I don't want to talk about this anymore." She drops her hands, turns around, and makes a bee-line for the door backstage without another word – walking as quickly as her legs can carry her. Dez trails behind her, still wanting answers. Nothing she had said explained _anything_ to him. He _had_ to know.

She pushes through the door, lengthening her strides until her legs ached – just wanting to get away as fast as she can without making a scene of it. She barely makes it across the empty field of grass before she feels two hands grab her by the arms from behind.

"Let me go!" she demands, wrenching herself from his grip as she turns to face him. "I _told_ you, I _don't_ want to talk about it!"

"Why _not?_ Whatever this is, it's clearly bothering you. Why do you like _him_ like that, and not _me?_" The whole situation doesn't seem to add up. There has to be _something_ he's missing. Something he's not seeing.

"_Why do you care?!_"

"I…I don't," he affirms, not expecting this to turn around and attack him.

"Then why do you need to know so badly?" she huffs.

"Because he's just like me. But you're flirting with him. And…That's _weird._"

"What do you want me to say? That I _know_ he's just like you? That maybe…" her voice trails off, and she shifts her gaze off of him.

"_Maybe…?_" he coaxes her, tilting his head as he tries to meet her downcast eyes.

"Nothing. It's _nothing._ He's _not_ you. He's not _like_ you. I don't know why I'm even defending myself to you!" She meets his gaze with ferocity in her eyes. She's had enough.

"Trish, why can't you just tell me, then? What makes him so different?" His voice had softened. He's grown tired of this pointless arguing. As much as he yearns to know the truth, he feels he won't be able to keep this up much longer.

"Well, he's…Got longer hair than you. And he's a little shorter…And he's got facial hair," she tries, knowing just how superficial she sounds. None of those reasons has anything to do with what draws her to this boy. It was his likeness, both in looks and personality, to the boy before her that pulled her in.

"Is that all?" His brows rise, expectantly.

"He's also…Nice to me. And he likes me," she appends, not that she figures it would convince him. She has no real argument.

"I'm _not?_ I _don't?_"

"You _know_ what I mean." Exasperated, her eyes shift down to her shoes. "He's different."

"_Better?_"

"No. He…" She shakes her head. "He reminds me of you. But he _isn't_ you."

"And not being _me_ makes him…?"

"Not good enough."

"_Excuse me?_"

"I've gotta go…" She turns around, her legs taking her into a full-fledged run. She doesn't even care anymore. She has to get away.

He stands still, watching the girl run off. Idle, dazed – perhaps a tad pleasantly surprised? But _why?_ He would never hold this over her head. He's her friend, after all. So why does this feel so _right?_ Why isn't he completely repulsed? Shouldn't he be? The girl who had called him "doof", and many variations of the word, for the past four years had just indirectly admitted to having feelings for him. Why did her words make him feel so warm? Why did the stress that was weighing down on him suddenly vanish?

It takes him a few seconds to realize that he had begun moving, racing towards the girl – his longer legs producing bigger strides, enough for him to catch up to her before she manages to disappear from his sight. Upon closing in on her, he takes to air, tackling the girl to the ground. Clearly, he hadn't thought this all the way through. Or _at all._

"_Oof!_" The girl hits the ground, groaning as she shoves the redhead off of her. "Dez! _What the hell?!_" She picks herself up and dusts off her outfit. The boy stands up, as well, grabbing her by the shoulders so she wouldn't run away again.

"Trish, why'd you run?" he asks her, the innocent look on his face that usually melts her heart only managing to make her angrier.

_Is he serious?_ She grows nervous under his stare. "Why do you _think_ I ran, you doof?"

"You're embarrassed." Dez answers his own question. Trish's eyes look down in silent admission. He lifts her head up by the chin. "You shouldn't be."

"Really?" She challenges him, pushing away. "What – isn't the idea of me having a crush on you making you want to _vomit?_ Doesn't it make you want to stop talking to me _altogether?_ Won't it make everything really weird betw–" she stops. Not willingly, though. She could no longer speak. Not while her lips are occupied. Not while he had his pressed against hers.

He grips the sides of her head, gathering bunches of her curls between his fingers as he pulls her in closer. He tilts his head, deepening the lip-lock as he feels her requite. She wraps her arms around his neck, standing on her toes to reach him. He had leaned down for her, too, but cannot keep up the position much longer. He releases her for a moment, only to pull her down onto the grass with him. He hovers above her, leaning down and giving her a few more kisses on her flushed lips before moving on to her neck. She emits some giggles, the action tickling her more than anything else, initially. After a while, she settles, the feeling of him sucking on the tender areas of her neck spreading heat virally across her body. She rakes her fingers through his copper locks, pulling his lips back up onto hers. He pushes her white, sleeveless coat off her shoulders and puts it to the side. She unbuttons his cardigan sloppily. Too impatient to even take it off of him, she goes ahead and slides her hands under his shirt, around to his back, pulling him in closer to her. He shudders as he feels her cool hands against his bare skin. He presses a full kiss against her lips as his own hands slip under her floral-print dress. His fingers glide up her outer thighs gently before they make their way around to the back. He gives her ample cheeks a firm squeeze. Her moans snap them both out of it.

Trish pushes him off, being the first to pull away. "What the hell are we doing?!" She grabs her white coat vest and gets up on her feet. Dez picks himself up, as well, the reality of the situation slowly setting in.

"That…Just happened," he speaks frankly.

"Dammit, Dez! _What about Carrie?!_" she rebukes him, furious at herself for having forgotten that the boy has a girlfriend on the other side of the country. She slips on her coat and adjusts her dress.

"Oh. Right." He bites his lip, ashamed that he had forgotten something that important. "Well…I guess we could…" He rubs the back of his neck.

"–Pretend this never happened?" she finishes.

"Right." He looks down at his disheveled self. "But uh…How're we going to explain this? We both need to head back to the Music Factory, like, _now._"

"Your hair's a mess, too." She smirks. He glares.

"Yours isn't much better." He crosses his arms. She rolls her eyes.

"Here's what we do. I enter first. If anyone asks, I'll tell them I was trying to break up a fight between Devin, Rupert, and Nigel. Boynado gets into a _lot_ of fights, so they'll definitely believe me."

"What about _me?_" he asks. "I don't have time to go get fixed up, I have a class to teach soon!" Trish ponders for a moment, looking down at the grass. She bends down and uproots a bunch of blades, then proceeds to smear them over all over his cardigan, and onto his bright yellow pants.

"Wh–_Hey!_ How is this helping?! This is one of my favorite outfits!"

"You say that about _every_ outfit of yours, you doof." She scoffs, dusting off her hands. "There. Just tell people you were rolling around in the grass or something."

"Okay, but what's my _motivation?_"

"What?"

"I'm rolling in the grass – but _why?_" he touches his fingers together, his tone completely serious.

"I don't know! Looking for ladybugs or something?"

"Ooo, that's _good._" He snaps, pointing a finger at her. "I actually happen to have one in my back pocket!" He grins proudly. She stares at the boy a few moments before shaking her head, disregarding it.

"Whatever, Dez. Look, let's head over to the Music Factory. Make sure to wait a little while to go in after I do, so it won't look so suspicious," she instructs. He nods, following her as she leads the way.

Dex, now long forgotten.

The bliss they had just engaged in? _Never._

* * *

**Happy Thanksgiving!**


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